


Light Another Candle

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Nygmobblepot, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, One Shot, Power Outage, Riddles, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 03:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10296641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Second fic for Nygmobblepot Week, Prompt: 'Fluff'.When the power in Ed's apartment goes out, Ed and Oz partake in some candlelit riddles. The prize? Winner gets the bed.





	

‘Well?’ Oswald asked as Ed hung up the phone.

‘Landlord says it’ll be tomorrow before the power’ll come back on’, Ed replied, folding his arms, ‘They’re not sure what’s caused it’.

Oswald rolled his eyes in irritation as he lit another candle. Meanwhile Edward walked around his apartment, unplugging electrical appliances. No sense leaving them plugged in if the power wasn’t working.  
Thankfully Ed always kept a supply of candles, tealights and matches. Power cuts weren’t uncommon in his building but this particular outage had happened two hours before and now looked set to continue through the night. Ed wished he had a fireplace: there was a definite chill in the air and the weather forecast had warned of frost.

Oswald blew out the match and threw it in a wastebasket. He pulled his robe collar up to keep his neck warm.

‘Heating’s knocked out too?’

‘Afraid so’, Ed said, sitting beside him on the couch.

‘So our options are freeze to death or die of boredom?’ Oswald asked sardonically. 

‘It’s not that bad’, Ed said, giggling at Oswald's overdramatic assessment of their situation, ‘We could play a game? If you like?’

‘What game are you thinking?’ Oswald asked.

‘Riddles!’ Ed replied brightly.

‘Not that you’re biased or anything’, Oswald said, rolling his eyes.

‘How about I make it more interesting for you?’ Ed asked, clapping his hands, ‘We’ll play for a prize’.

‘Whoever wins gets exclusive use of the spicy mustard?’ Oswald joked.

‘I was thinking more along the lines of the bed’, Ed said, eyes glittering in challenge, ‘Unless of course you’re scared you’ll lose?’

Oswald sniffed derisively but Ed saw his eyes flick to the bed. No doubt Oswald was considering how nice and warm it was under the sheets.

‘I don’t know any riddles’, he said, ‘How about, you ask me five and if I get them all right, I win?’

‘Okey dokey’, Ed smiled, rubbing his hands in anticipation as much as for warmth, ‘Riddle number one: Before Mount Everest was discovered, what was the tallest mountain in the world?’

‘Don’t go easy on me Ed’, Oswald chided, ‘The answer’s still Mount Everest’.

‘Correct! Don’t worry, just a _‘warm up’_ round’, Ed joked.

Oswald rolled his eyes at the pun but threw Ed a bone by pretending to play a rimshot on an invisible set of drums.

‘You’d better start taking this seriously or I’m going to win’, Oswald said.

‘Okay then, let’s get real. Riddle number two: what turns everything around without moving?’

‘A mirror’, Oswald said, nodding his head towards the one mounted on a nearby wall.

‘I am not alive yet I grow, I have no lungs yet I need air, I have no mouth yet I can drown’, Ed recited.

‘Fire’, Oswald said without skipping a beat.

He gestured at the candles illuminated around the room.

‘Are we playing ‘I-Spy’ now?’ he smirked.

‘Alright then Mr Smarty Pants’, Ed said, stepping up his game, ‘What type of building has the most stories?’

Oswald’s brow furrowed as he considered his options.  
Ed smiled as he watched Oswald’s brain whirring. It was fascinating to watch other people work things out! He had confidence in Oswald’s abilities though: just because he said he didn’t enjoy riddles didn’t mean he had no talent for them. He was good at thinking outside the box. It was probably what made him such a dangerous criminal. It was enticing thinking about how he was playing a game with one of the city’s most notorious killers.  
What was even more delicious was the secret that Ed had no intention of winning. The riddle game had merely been a diversion, something to pass the time. Oswald had to keep the bed: he was still recovering from his wounds and a night spent on the lumpy sofa would only irritate the myriad of aches and pains Oswald lived with on a daily basis. It was an odd sensation, having no desire to win a game of riddles but Ed realised he was enjoying the actual game more than the prospect of victory.  
In a way, he had already won by convincing Oswald to play in the first place.

Oswald clicked his fingers as a solution came to him.

‘A library’, he said.

‘Correct again’, Ed flashing him a thumbs up, ‘Okay Mr Penguin. One more and you win it all. Are you ready?’

Oswald nodded eagerly.

‘Okay then, for the win: What’s black and white and red all over?’

Oswald’s face fell and he scowled.

‘That’s not fair. That’s a joke, not a riddle’.

‘It can be both’, Ed shrugged.

Oswald folded his arms and cocked his head jauntily.

‘I must be better at this than you thought if you’re having to cheat to keep me from winning’.

‘Does that mean you give up?’ Ed asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Oswald scoffed and Ed watched him put his brain to the task.  
Ed intended to accept whatever answer Oswald gave. There were so many to choose from: a newspaper, an embarrassed nun, a communist zebra, a sunburnt penguin…

‘The answer is ‘me’’.

‘What?’ Ed asked, blinking in surprise.

‘Me’, Oswald repeated, ‘You know, when you found me: a wounded penguin’.

Ed laughed in delight at the unexpected answer. It felt so wonderful to be surprised!  
It only ever happened to Ed around Oswald.

‘Well?’ Oswald asked, cheeks colouring as Ed continued laughing, ‘Am I right or not?’

‘Correct’, Ed said, disbelief written all over his face.

‘Seriously?’ Oswald deadpanned.

‘Seriously!’ Ed laughed, ‘Congratulations! Bed’s all yours’.

Oswald took Ed’s offered hand for the customary congratulatory handshake and narrowed his eyes at the chill of Ed’s fingers. And, was their breath misting?! It was! The temperature had dropped far more than they had realised but now, without the game to distract them, Oswald realised it was actually snowing outside.  
And he had expected Ed, a riddle enthusiast, to be more annoyed about his loss. There was only one explanation: Ed had let him win. Oswald felt a momentary stab of annoyance at Ed’s subterfuge which was swiftly replaced by realization. Ed had just wanted to play a game with him, have a bit of fun to pass the time. But then, why hadn’t he just asked? Maybe, because he wasn’t used to people wanting to indulge his hobby? Despite his distaste for brainteasers, Oswald had actually enjoyed the game and now that he knew Ed had never wanted the ‘prize’, taking the bed as his own didn’t feel right. He felt bad to have been so selfish. Ed hadn’t complained once about sleeping on the couch even though it was his apartment. Without Ed, Oswald probably wouldn’t even have been alive.

‘You know what? It’s fine’, Oswald said, waving a hand, ‘I’ve had the bed all this time. It’s your apartment’.

‘But, but you can’t sleep on the sofa!’ Ed protested, ‘Your knee needs support’.

‘I’ve slept in less comfortable places’, Oswald said, recalling his flight from the scrapyard when Maroni had tried to crush him in a car. 

‘Yes but only when you’ve had no other choice’, Ed insisted, irritated that Oswald wasn’t conforming to the rules they had agreed on, ‘Besides you won the game’.

‘You let me win and you know it!’ Oswald countered, annoyed at Ed’s refusal to let him be unselfish.

They stood in silence for a moment, neither one willing to back down.

‘There is another option’, Ed finally said.

‘What’s that?’ Oswald asked but he already knew what Ed was going to say.

‘Compromise’.

Their heads turned in unison: looking first at the bed then back at each other. Ed watched Oswald blush to the tips of his ears.

‘Are you suggesting that we…share the bed?’ Oswald asked, once again already knowing the answer.

Ed shrugged unconcernedly.

‘Many warm blooded mammals (and not necessarily those in romantic pairs) huddle together for warmth during cold-‘

‘We’re not animals’, Oswald said but Ed could see Oswald was simply arguing out of obligation.

‘Penguins do it too’, Ed shrugged.

‘If you ever breathe a word about this, I swear I’ll-‘

Ed held up a hand, halting Oswald before he could commence with his threat.

‘Could you at least threaten me in the bed? I can’t feel my fingers’.

 

‘You’re going to fall off if you go any farther over to that side’, Ed warned.

‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take’, Oswald said, looking back over his shoulder (and over the blanket he had meticulously tucked under his back to create a sandbank of sorts).

‘Can you at least turn around?’ Ed asked, ‘We’ll keep more heat in if we face each other’.

Oswald huffed but did as Ed asked. He found himself staring at Ed’s chest. He was grateful for the position as it meant he did not have to meet Ed’s eyes. Despite them both being fully clothed (moreso than usual due to the extra thermal layers they had pulled on before climbing into bed) this was uncomfortable enough already!  
But…was it though?  
The bed was already heating up nicely thanks to their combined body heat and the extra two blankets Ed had thrown onto it. Though he would never admit it to Ed, Oswald was finding the company of another presence beside him strangely comforting.  
When he had been growing up, he had shared his mother’s bed often due to their lack of funds to pay for heating in the cramped apartment they had shared. Now, with her gone, it was just another sad memory to dwell on. Perhaps, if he closed his eyes, he could pretend (despite the obvious height difference) that it was her beside him, alive, well and sleeping peacefully.

 

Despite Oswald’s flustered protestations, he was the first to fall asleep.  
Ed found this amusing. Obviously Oswald wasn’t as opposed to the idea of letting Ed share the bed as he had pretended to be.  
It was intriguing to watch him at rest. While awake, he was always so guarded and indignant, like a grounded bird who wanted nothing more than to fly away. Even when he slept, he covered himself with a blanket, snuggling down into it like a protective cocoon yet always leaving a gap open so one watchful eye could see his surroundings should he be disturbed.  
This time however, he had simply fallen asleep, head exposed as it lay on the pillow. Practically, Ed supposed the weight of the extra blankets may have made it hard to breathe had Oswald hidden himself beneath them but flattered himself that Oswald trusted his new bedmate enough to dispense with his usual ‘fortifications’.  
He watched Oswald breathe deeply, his face relaxed and calm as his eyelids fluttered with sleep. Ed noticed (not for the first time) how long Oswald’s eyelashes were and idly began to count the freckles dotting his nose and upper cheeks. The candle burning by the bed cast a golden sheen in his black hair making it seem even more like a bird’s feathered crest.  
Ed had always thought he was straight but now, sharing a bed with this strange yet beautiful creature, he felt that classification was incredibly limited. 

Oswald’s quiet whimper interrupted Ed’s internal discourse on his sexuality.  
He looked down to see Oswald’s face crinkle as whatever dreams he was experiencing began to take on obviously negative traits. His teeth were gritted and Ed watched his fingers curl as they grasped the blanket. His head shook slightly in a ‘no’ gesture and his brow furrowed at whatever he was seeing.  
Touched by Oswald’s visible, growing distress, Ed reached out instinctively and touched his face. Oswald’s breath hitched and Ed froze, worried about Oswald’s potential negative reaction to Ed’s unauthorised physical contact should he wake up.  
When Oswald remained in that position, Ed did what came naturally.  
He began to gently stroke Oswald’s cheek with his fingertips and sang quietly:

_‘The fire has gone out,_  
_Wet snow from above,_  
_But, nothing will warm me more than my, my mother’s love._  
_I light another candle,_  
_Dry the tears from my face,_  
_Nothing can protect me more than my mother’s warm embrace._  
_The path ahead is so dark, so dark I cannot see_  
_But I will not fear_  
_‘Cause my mother looks over me’._

He finished and felt a rush of warmth as he saw Oswald was peaceful again.  
And smiling.  
Ed halted his stroking and gently traced the smile once with his thumb.  
Removing it once he had heard Oswald begin to give his usual odd chirp like snores, he kissed the tip once, settled down and gazed at Oswald until sleep finally came.


End file.
